


How to Move On

by Darkhymns



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Family, Hurt/Comfort, Past, Post-Undertale Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-25
Updated: 2016-08-25
Packaged: 2018-08-10 22:29:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7863676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darkhymns/pseuds/Darkhymns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past rears its head, unexpectedly. But with a friend, perhaps it's bearable.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Move On

**Author's Note:**

> For [Soriel Week 2016](http://sorielweek.tumblr.com). Prompt: Lost.
> 
> Not very romantic, but it's, uh, something!

He would never tell her about the statue back in Waterfall, now sitting there forgotten under the makeshift rain. It was a sight he would see more than once during his rounds, whenever he bothered to do them. It would perch there in a silent hallway, head bowed, its horns weathered down to blunt points. It crouched, or knelt, or bowed down to whatever weight it carried. Its arms would be wrapped around someone, but the details had been lost to time, to ill-kept maintenance, to the flimsy memories of monsters.

On one of his many breaks, Sans would stand before it, staring, feeling the rain plunk against his skull, drench his coat to his bones, transform his slippers into a pink, soggy mess. Even with no obstruction in view, the sight was difficult. The statue was a mass of grey, with only the hint of kind eyes. He was too lazy to get the umbrellas further down the corridor. It wouldn’t have helped anyway – he’d always been a tone-deaf skeleton.

The stone reminded him of someone he had never seen before.

Sometimes, when he finally walked by that statue, he would come upon a door that was not supposed to be there. He had only gone through it once.

Some things were better left alone.

* * *

“Now, Frisk, remember to tuck in your shirt.” Toriel did so herself, pushing the ends of the striped shirt into the child’s shorts, then carefully groomed back their messy hair. “You want to look good for your first day of school!”

Standing with her, Sans nodded to the eager-eyed student before him, also ready for their first day. “you too, bro.”

Papyrus was running in place, eager to be off, the front end of his ‘Cool Dude’ shirt flapping about. “SANS, YOU SAID YOU WOULD HELP ME DO MY TIE FIRST.”

“oh yeah.” Sans grinned. He held up an already-made tie in his thin fingers, the fabric patterned with bone designs because sometimes it was nice to be predictable. In the next instant, it vanished, appearing on Papyrus’ front collar. “there you go.”

The tall skeleton glared. “A CLIP-ON? SANS. DRIVING SCHOOL REQUIRES MUCH MORE CLASS THAN THIS.”

“i’m sure they’ll _school_ you on the best way to tie a tie, way more than i ever could.”

“UGH. WHAT A TERRIBLE WAY TO START MY NEW AND EXCITING LIFE.”

Toriel, however, had giggled at his crummy joke. The sound was expected, but each time it relaxed whatever tension was left in his vertebrae, easing away stiffness to pleasant warmth. He smiled at the ex-queen, gracing her with a wink.

With a flush that he was sure no one else could see (the benefits of having two layers of fur) Toriel turned back to the innocent souls before her. “I think you look perfect, Papyrus,” she complimented, making sure to tuck in his shirt and also arrange his baseball cap to a less-skewed angle. “Now, remember, drop Frisk off at their school first before you go to driver’s ed.”

Papyrus gave a clanking salute, the edge of his palm hitting his cranium that, if it was anyone else, might have been painful. “DO NOT WORRY, MISS ASGORE’S CLONE. I WILL BE THE BEST FRISK TRANSPORTER YOU’VE EVER WITNESSED.”

With a bright smile, Frisk raised their small arms to the skeleton, who then picked them up, and placed them on their basketball-decorative shoulders. Frisk gently held onto Papyrus’ skull like a driving wheel, their feet kicking around in excitement as they both headed out the door.

“no more than 5 miles per hour, bro.”

“Watch your head, Frisk!”

Luckily, the two made it past without any bumps or scrapes. After they left, Toriel heaved a little sigh, shaky in its sound.

“worried?”

“Oh, no, it is not that.” Toriel held her hands together, her smile forming carefully. “Just a bit… nostalgic.”

Before he could ask more, she had gone over to the couch, brushing aside the toys that Frisk had left behind, along with Papyrus’ action figures. It had been an eventful sleepover, though Sans would be hard-pressed to remember any of it, as he had taken the ‘sleeping’ part of said sleepover to heart.

“yeah, papyrus’ style can be pretty retro.”

She giggled again, giving a little hiccup at one point. Sans grinned even wider, tickled at the fact that he could basically laugh her into gentle submission. But he took another look at her, seeing how she kept turning away, avoiding his stare.

“something up, tori?” he ventured. It wasn’t really his thing to ask after people much. Kind of a hassle. But how often had they each listened to the other go on about their day? Just because there was no door in the way didn’t mean that had to change.

Toriel looked to him in mild surprise. She swallowed down her hiccups, then proceeded to sit on the couch cushions. “Sans, may I show you something?”

He plunked next to her, his feet hovering an inch or two off the ground. “always like a good show-and-tell.”

She didn’t react at first, but he saw the eventual brightening of her eyes, a light crimson, like the sight of the sunset on the horizon. He saw her reach for the small table by the couch, opening a drawer to retrieve what looked to be a book.

No, wait, a photo album. This was literal showing-and-telling. Nice.

“Though I had this for many years, I have never really looked through it much.” Her paws caressed the front cover, which was plain, any lettering on it having long faded away. “It brings up many memories.”

She didn’t say anything else, and for once, Sans was uncomfortable with the silence. “good ones?”

Toriel considered. “Mostly, yes.”

When she opened the photo album, most of them were filled with pictures of monsters he had never seen before, some he was sure he had seen before, and some he was very sure were _related_ to those he had seen before. But Sans had lost track of his age long ago. It didn’t seem to matter to keep track, so he was hard-pressed to know just how many of these monsters in these photos were either older or younger than him.

Toriel flipped past most of the pages to get to the ones near the end. A claw laid against one photo, sepia-toned, sporting one big, burly goat monster who was carrying a mini-version of himself on his shoulders. Both were smiling at the camera, like complete dorks.

“This has always been one of my favorites,” she told him in a voice that was only one treble above a whisper.

He knew why she needed to seek this picture out. He couldn’t really blame her. “they look like they’re having fun.”

Asriel had been a cute kid, his muzzle wide open in a laugh, his floppy ears flying away from him as Asgore balanced his son, large hands holding onto his legs. He had been young, too. His horns had not even sprouted from his head, instead both bare and indicative of his age.

Toriel stared at the photo for a long while.

“do you need to talk about it?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I am not sure I want to.” Her hands traced the outline of her long-lost son. “Foolish, is it not? I make you look at such a photo, yet refuse to tell you anything.”

He leaned back on the couch, just brushing against her arm. “it’s okay. i don’t mind. really.”

He could still see her struggling, the weight of past years and regrets finally showing themselves. “It is just… when Papyrus carried Frisk, I couldn’t help but remember. At how happy they were, how we…” She shook her head. “This is quite ridiculous. I do not want to burden you with these old memories.”

Sans wished he had more to say than repeated words of comfort. It wasn’t like he had much experience with this. “well…” he started pathetically. “family’s important?”

It was good enough, for she nodded, eyes still drawn to that photo. “It is. I just keep wishing that… that I had been more capable back then. Once Asriel found them, we had tried…” She made to turn the page. Sans caught the flash of red irises standing out from paleness – the color of viciousness, bleeding out of his chest…

He placed his fingers over her hand, stopping her. “don’t.”

“Wh…” Toriel stared. “Sans?”

“just, trust me.” He then shut the photo album, breathing a sigh of relief. “some things are better left alone.”

He expected her to be angry. He couldn’t think of many people that appreciated getting shut down like that. A line formed in her forehead, the barest hint of annoyance. But it vanished quickly, replaced by sudden thoughtfulness. Her hands made no move to open the photo album again.

“Do you have such pictures of your family?”

He paused. “some photos, yeah.” He paused again. “and some not.”

“Oh.” Toriel considered. “Like a drawing?”

Damn, she was good. “one or two, give or take.”

“May I see-”

“no.”

His response was hasty, which he immediately regretted after seeing her eyes widen. “I - I apologize. I did not mean to intrude…”

“you didn’t. just,” he said, close to stammering his words, but not quite. “it’s a sore subject for me.”

He shut his jaw, wondering just how he had messed this up. Here was Toriel, sharing with him something private, and then he had to make it all about him. Just the idea of photographs sent poison running through his mouth. Of course, he couldn’t help but notice, as she had flipped through the pages of past monsters, that there was something absent from them, something _missing._ Again, just old problems – his problems – with no concern for her own.

“We are just two old fools, are we not?”

He faced her. She had moved closer to him, legs near his, her hands placed in her lap.

“hey, i’m as young and spry as they come.”

She giggled at that, as she giggled at each and every joke he gave, as if it was new and wondrous each time. “Yes, certainly by comparison… but we are both set in our ways, do you agree? We are too connected to our past troubles, even when there is happiness right in front of us.”

He made the decision to stay quiet, listening to the ruffling of her fur, to the steady cadence that was her breathing.

“Even with a new family, a new life, and everything… I can’t help but feel… lost, still.”

Lost and drifting, waiting for something to wash it all away again, as it always did, as it always has.

She gripped his hand. He blinked.

“You are lost, too. I’m afraid I have only made it harder for both of us. Instead of finding the way out, I’ve just driven us down a dark road.”

“it’s not your fault, tori,” he told her, meaning it intensely. “it really isn’t. i’m just, heh.” He grinned and shrugged. “i’m just me, you know?”

Tears built in her eyes, reminding him of the falling rain, the echoing silence. How long has she bowed down before the rain, because he had never been kind enough to give her any shelter?

“Yet I have still been a troublesome friend. Could I not just be grateful? For Frisk, for you, for everyone… and for Asriel, who is at least not in pain anymore…”

He didn’t want to tell her that sometimes you couldn’t help but find the past in everything you see. That the simple outstretch of a hand can make your body stand in shock, or how the patterns of rocks can make you think you know what it represents. He didn’t want to tell her that, even if, on that rare occasion, that you actually tried to make a difference – the shadow of what you failed to do, of what you continued to fail to do, will always hang off from you. Maybe it wasn’t obvious to everyone else, maybe they couldn’t see. But _you could,_ and that was enough to make you useless.

Or maybe she’d actually get it?

“just be happy.”

Toriel ran a paw over her eyes, pushing back tears as she looked at him confusingly. “Just…”

He scratched the back of his head. “yeah, it’s not a really deep philosophy… but, i guess i mean, things that happen will happen, have happened and… just gotta live in the moment. it doesn’t always work, and sometimes you can’t help but think back to before… but that’s why you just gotta stay happy.”

She tilted her head. “You make it sound so simple.”

“it’s not,” he admitted, looking away from her. “not at all, really. it can backfire on ya pretty hard. so you gotta occupy yourself, find the next thing that seems fun, and don’t worry about consequences.”

“So, I should live carelessly?”

“i guess if you put it that way.” Yeah, that sure sounded like him.

“With no regards to the repercussions?”

“yep. uh, unless it’s like something that’ll land you in court or-”

His voice grounded to a halt when he felt her muzzle press against his teeth. It was soft, brimming with warm magic that clutched at his soul more tightly then he was used to.

Toriel separated from him quickly, a nervous smile on her face. When she spoke, he vividly recalled the snow, floating down from heavy darkness. “That was a moment… that I have wanted to have for a while.” She looked away. “Is that not troublesome?”

Sans was unable to say much of anything. Instead he reached out a hand, holding her chin, indexing all the details of her face; from those horns, blunted by the passing years, to her eyes, open and inviting, reminding him of the sunset that, in other timelines, he would never know.

She was someone he had seen before, again, and again, and again.

* * *

When Frisk and Papyrus finally came back home, Toriel had knelt down, hugging the human child in her arms. Their small hands wrapped over her neck, face buried in her shoulder. Her long dress fanned out on the floor as she continued to hold them, asking them how school was, and if they had made new friends.

While Sans was always eager to hear his brother talk about his day, and how he had aced his driving test in record, heart-stopping time, he could only stare at both Toriel and Frisk. There was no rain, no silence, but here was this old lady, holding the symbol of both their hope and despair. Just as he had seen back in Waterfall, with the stone barely recognizable, and the action barely remembered. But he had always looked at that statue in perfect confliction, and couldn’t help but feel the same way now.

Living in the moment. Yeah, harder than it sounded. But the feel of her kiss lingered, as pleasant as the taste of cinnamon.

Frisk turned their head to Sans, smiling, but their eyes half-lidded, shielding them from the light.

It was too bad some things just refused to stay buried.


End file.
